Now and Then
by Paimpont
Summary: Harry is curious about Sirius' romantic past. But can he handle the truth? Mild slash.


It was still raining. The raindrops tapped incessantly against the windowpane, as they had all day.

Harry and Sirius sat in front of the fire, talking softly, comfortable with the rhythm of the rain and each other's company. Harry leaned back in his chair and lost himself in Sirius' stories. He listened as Sirius' soft voice painted pictures of the past, wove tapestries of memories. He saw James, flushed and laughing, with the fluttering snitch in his hand, the grave flame-haired Lily speaking kindly to a homesick first-year student, his own unknown grandfather (curiously Dumbledore-like in Harry's mind) cracking jokes with James and Sirius as he carved a Sunday roast.

"What about - you know, girls?" Harry asked idly, as he stared into the glowing embers of the fire. "You told me all about how my father fell in love with my mother, but what about you? Did you have a lot of girlfriends?"

"No."

Harry turned to look at Sirius, whose face was half hidden in the shadows. "Just one, then?"

"No. None." Sirius spoke lightly, a hint of laughter in his voice. He leaned forward a little, and the flames cast a warm glow over his gaunt, but still beautiful face. Even after the years of suffering inscribed on his face, Sirius was still one of the most handsome men Harry had ever seen. How was it possible that he hadn't had a girlfriend?

"Really?" He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "How come?"

Sirius was silent for a moment. Then he said, softly, "I was never interested in women, Harry. Not in that way."

It took a while for it to sink in. Then Harry understood.

"Men, then?"

Sirius nodded. "Does that shock you, Harry?"

"No - " Harry didn't quite know what to say. In his mind, he had vaguely pictured James and Lily walking hand in hand through the Hogwarts grounds at dusk, lost in their pure and perfect love, while the dashing teenage Sirius rode off into the sunset on his motorcycle with some unknown golden-haired girl...

He swallowed. "Did you... did you fancy someone? A boy, I mean -?"

"Hmmm." Sirius flopped himself down on the floor in front of the fire and stared intently into the flames for a minute. "Are you sure you want to know about this, Harry?"

"Yes." Harry wasn't sure why, but he knew with all his heart that he had to know.

"Well," Sirius said softly, without looking at Harry, "Remus and I had a -a thing for each other for a while..."

Remus! Harry drew his breath sharply. Suddenly, an image of Sirius in a fierce embrace with Remus Lupin leapt into his mind. He imagined Sirius' face illuminated by some frantic, forbidden desire, Remus' and Sirius' bodies clinging to each other, their lips meeting...

For some reason, he felt an almost unbearable stab of pain at the thought. No, not this, not...

A thought suddenly occurred to him. "But then... are you still... you and Remus?" Why was it so difficult to get the words out?

He held his breath as he looked at Sirius, and felt ridiculously relieved when Sirius shook his head.

"Remus is still a dear, dear friend, but nothing more than that. We were never actually in love, you see, even when we were involved with each other... But we found comfort in each other at times." Sirius' voice was soft, his dark eyes lost in some far away memory.

"Have you never been in love then?" Harry's voice came out as a whisper, and for a moment he wasn't sure if Sirius had heard him. But then Sirius met his glance.

"Yes, Harry," he said quietly, his face impossibly beautiful in the flickering golden light. "I have been in love."

And suddenly Harry understood. A flash of insight, strangely mingled with both joy and pain, surged through him: "You loved - my father."

Sirius nodded. His face was flushed, and he lowered his head, until his wild dark curls hid his eyes from Harry's. "I've never told anyone else before, Harry. Well, Remus knew, of course, instinctively, and pitied me. And James..." His voice trembled. "I did tell James how I felt..."

Harry found it difficult to breathe. He wanted to know, he had to know, but did not know if could bear it. "Did he love you back?"

Sirius shook his head slowly. "Oh, he loved me, but not like that. Just like a friend. I think... I think it almost broke his heart that I suffered because of him, but he could not love me as I loved him. I was in love with him, and he was in love with Lily. It was as simple and heartbreaking as that."

Impulsively, Harry slid down on the floor next to Sirius. With a trembling hand, he stroked Sirius dark hair away from his eyes and looked into his face. He wondered, suddenly, how it was possible for anyone not to love Sirius. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he found that he could no longer speak.

Sirius' voice came softly, wonderingly: "My God... How you look like him, Harry. You are James, and not James, all at the same time..."

Harry stroked Sirius' flushing face, gently. Sirius drew his breath sharply and grasped Harry's hand, held it tight against his cheek and closed his eyes. "Harry," he whispered hoarsely.

Harry felt himself swept away by a fiery, wild magic unlike any he had ever encountered. His very being was on fire; he had no will, no conscious thought, just a single, flaming desire...

He flung his arms around Sirius and kissed him wildly, kissed his face, his lips... And he felt Sirius' arms tighten around him, so hard it almost hurt, and a fiery kiss in return for his own...

Then Sirius pulled back, breathless. His eyes were shining now. He smiled at Harry, a sudden, almost boyish smile. "Harry! Do you - do you love me?" There was something new in his voice as he asked, something resembling shyness.

Harry felt a sudden, overwhelming tenderness for Sirius. "Of course I love you," he said wonderingly. "I think I always have. Except I didn't know it till just now." He leaned against Sirius and found himself enveloped in the arms that waited for him.

"But what about you? Do you love me - or James?"

Sirius kissed him gently on the forehead before answering. "You know, Harry," he said finally. "When I first met you, you were a boy, and I wanted above all to care for you and protect you. But as I saw you grow into a man, I sometimes caught myself daydreaming that maybe one day - one day you would feel something for me... You were so much like James, you see, and it felt as if I had suddenly, miraculously gotten James back... I was ashamed of those fantasies and tried to push them aside. I told myself that I only imagined that I felt something for you because you were so much like James."

Sirius looked at Harry, stroked his face gently, touched the lightning bolt scar softly with a trembling finger.

"But now, Harry, I am beginning to think that I had it all backwards. I know this sounds absurd, but it is true all the same. I love you, Harry. But I don't love you because you resemble James; I loved James because he resembled you. I just didn't know you yet..."

And as Sirius' trembling lips met his own and sparks of fire shot through his body, Harry had an odd sense that the world had suddenly become real; it felt as if he had lived his life on the surface of the world until this moment, and he was finally sinking into the hidden reality underneath. Spells, wands, broomsticks, flying cars; the Dursleys, the cupboard under the stairs - it was all an illusion, a flashy magic trick, compared to the luminous reality of this moment.


End file.
